


The I.V. and your hospital bed

by Ragno



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Amnesia, Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, M/M, Non-Explicit, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragno/pseuds/Ragno
Summary: "... If I were to die tonight, would you cry or deny my place in your life?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Read this at your own discretion and risk. I choose not to use archive warnings for a reason. This fic won't have a happy ending, and that's all you need to know.

 

 

 

Brendon never thought he would end up here, pressing his head against the tiles of this bathroom stall, running away from the smell of anesthetics that fill up the whole hospital, not even the strong smell of cleaning bleach making him forget where he is. He doesn’t like hospitals. Who does? Hospitals always made him bring back bad memories, even if none of them happened in one. Hospitals don’t make people happy, they’re just happy when they get to get out of it. Brendon would be very happy to get out of here as soon as possible.

Not just him, though.

He washes his hands and splash some cold water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror and checking the dark circles under his eyes. It’s been two days. He’s starting to think about all those prayers he learned as a child, see if they still work. Or he could call his mom, because God sure as hell won’t listen to him, no matter what.

He calls Sarah, tells her he won’t be there for dinner tonight either. He’ll eat something at the cafeteria downstairs, then go back to the room until visiting hours finish. Sarah asks him to come back home then and at least have a shower, put on clean clothes. That sounds right, Brendon doesn’t want to be all sweaty and dirty when he wakes up. Because he will wake up.

 

*

 

He was at a party, about to go home because it was pretty late already, or early, because the sun was up. He wasn’t drunk, not anymore, but he still had that feeling buzzing inside his skin. He had fun, he danced, drank, made a fool out of himself and enjoyed it. It was a great party. Sarah was calling a cab when Brendon felt his own phone ringing.

_“… I’m afraid to inform you your friend had a car accident… a coma due to brain damage… you’re his emergency contact person…”_

Brendon wished he’d never pick up the phone.

It was selfish, he knew that, but he’d never felt so helpless in his whole life. He asked the doctor calling for the direction, bit his nails the whole 3 minutes the cab took to arrive and apologized to Sarah when he took the ride alone. The only thing he could think about was how stupid one must be to have him as their emergency contact person. Brendon’s not a reliable person. He’s not even able to take care of himself properly, and he sure won’t know how to act in an emergency. And he could have been on tour at some venue in fucking Russia for all he knows. What would have he done if that was the case? That was so, so stupid. Such a bad idea.

He was able to find the doctor who called him and ask what’s going on, and the doctor probably said a lot of theses things on the phone, but Brendon wasn’t ready then, wasn’t ready to hear all of that.

There was a car accident, he wasn’t the one driving, but they were all intoxicated. The impact caused some fractured ribs and a broken hip, facial bruises and a severe traumatic brain injury. He’s in a coma. And even if the doctor says he could wake up just any time soon, they just don’t know yet. When Brendon asked if that meant they didn’t know _when_ he’ll wake up or _if_ he’ll wake up, the doctor just shook her head and repeated they just didn’t know.

Brendon hated her right there. He needed to know. He needed them to know, because it’s not the same. It’s not the same staying alive knowing he will wake up and trying not to die knowing he might not.

He was shaking as he entered the room, and the doctor said she would wait outside for him. She told him he could stay or call for some family member to come. It’s the best for the patient to wake up to a familiar face, knowing there’s someone there for them, someone who loves them, someone who worries about them. Call a family member. Brendon felt nauseous.

There was no way he would go, though. He couldn’t leave him there. He was his emergency contact person, for God’s sake, he wasn’t going to abandon him. But he took his phone anyway, knowing it was the right thing to do, to call just to inform, because there was someone else who needed to know.

“Spencer,” he said, and his voice had to give away something, because Spencer didn’t complain about being so early in the morning. Brendon had to swallow, and only then found out he was crying. “Spencer, Ryan’s in a coma.”

 

*

 

Two days. Brendon’s going crazy.

He goes home and take a shower, changes clothes, kisses Sarah goodbye and drive to the hospital once again. He can’t stay home knowing Ryan could wake up in any minute, look around and see nobody there. Spencer said something about relieving him some hours, but Brendon declined.

“I’m his emergency contact person, Spence.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re said that already.”

He needs to fill out a form every time he stays there when it’s not visiting hours. He’s not related to Ryan, not his family member, his partner, anything. Brendon tells them Ryan doesn’t have a family when they ask for someone more appropriate.

“I’m his best friend. We’re… We were together. In a band.”

It sounds ridiculous, but Wikipedia backs him up and doctors and nurses are people after all. They let him in once again, and Brendon finds his seat in the lonely armchair that it’s taken the place of his bed the past nights. He moves it to get it closer to the bed, put his hand on the mattress, but doesn’t touch him. He can’t.

Ryan looks so different. His hair is different, the shape of his face, the way he breathes. He looks like he’s sleeping. The doctors say he’s stable. The bruises on his left cheek are healing pretty fast, as well as his ribs. Brendon wonders if Ryan knows what’s going on, if he’s somewhere there inside his brain. He wonders what would happen if that brain is not Ryan’s anymore once he wake up. He wonders if that would be better than not waking up at all. Brendon bites his lips and swallows.

Then he prays.

 

*

 

The full moon is high up in the sky, lighting up the whole room in the dark, and Ryan’s looking at him.

Ryan… Ryan’s awake.

He’s looking at him like he’s seeing some vision. Probably trying to focus his eyes in the dark, maybe not even that. Brendon should call a doctor, Ryan could need some kind of medical attention. He’s paralyzed.

Ryan moves, or he tries to, tries to cover his face with his hands but the tubes in his arms and the cables around prevent him from doing it. So he turns his face around, away from Brendon’s gaze. Away from Brendon. Then he groans or tries to speak, but it sounds painful and Brendon jumps, reaching and touching his hand. Ryan turns his head fast.

“Do you need me to…”

“Am I dead?”

Brendon leaves the rest of his sentence hanging when Ryan speaks. And in any other situation he would doubt if Ryan was speaking literally or metaphorically, because that’s something Ryan does. Right now, however, Ryan looks terrified, and Brendon takes his hand away just in case that makes things easier.

“You’re at the hospital. You had a car crash. But you’re fine now, you’re gonna be fine,” he says, but Ryan looks at him like he doesn’t understand.

“Who are you?” Ryan asks, and Brendon feels his skin get cold, his stomach twisting before he’s able to make up the words.

“I’m Brendon,” he whispers, only because that’s the only way his words can come out. And then Ryan shakes his head, almost violently.

“No. No. Who are you for real? You’re not… Brendon wouldn’t be here,” he says, pointing at him with his finger from where he can’t even move his arms but he’s shaking anyway. “Who the fuck are you and why are you wearing Brendon’s face?!”

“Ryan! Ryan, relax! I’m Brendon, okay?” Brendon tries to hold him down, stop him from hurting himself while the monitors start rushing up the usually slow beep. “I’m here because they called me. I’m here because I’m your emergency contact person,” he says, and he looks at Ryan in the eyes when he does, trying to make him understand he’s telling the truth.

“My…” Ryan blinks, looking at Brendon with wide eyes. “You’re my…” He repeats, and Brendon nods. He is. Yes, he is. “Oh, fuck.”

Ryan drops down unconscious again at the same time a couple of doctors irrupt in the room.

 

*

 

Brendon doesn’t leave, of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t care if he has to wait outside the ICU for hours before one of the doctors come and tell him Ryan’s stable again. He’s back asleep, but he will wake up again, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Ryan’s organism has suffered a lot, it’s normal he can’t get back to his self in a while. Doctors explain he might need rehabilitation, because it’s very rare to wake up from a coma with all of your functions intact, but there’s a good chance he will get better. At least he won’t need to be taught to talk again, and that’s a big step. He can have problems remembering some other things, though, things like how to eat by himself, how to walk without help. They say there’s a chance he won’t remember some things from his past. Brendon shivers. Ryan remembers him, he knows that. That won’t change. That can’t change.

 

*

 

Ryan wakes up again, like the doctor said, but just for a few minutes before he falls back asleep. He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at Brendon. He just looks.

Brendon tries talking to him, asking him how he feels, if he remembers anything, if he remembers waking up, if he remembers him… He stops asking when he gets Ryan won’t say a thing, and just shuts up and let him be, let him rest. It’s weird, though, Ryan looking at him like that, staring. It’s been so long since the last time they did that, look at each other like that.

It’s almost a relief when Ryan falls asleep, and Brendon takes the opportunity to get out the room and call Spencer. He tells him about everything that happened and Spencer says he’ll try to be there sometime soon, maybe when Ryan stays awake for longer. Brendon tells Spencer to contact Ryan’s family, let them know what happened. Spencer says he’ll try, although he’s not sure how that will turn out. Ryan lost touch with them around the same time he lost touch with everyone else.

“They’re his only family,” Brendon says, “there’s no way they won’t come and see how he is.” He sure hopes so.

He’s getting back in the room just as the same time Ryan’s waking up again, and Brendon stops right in the middle of the room when their eyes make contact. Ryan covers his face with his hands. Now he can, now there are just a tube connected to one of his arms and a couple of cables. The only thing Brendon can think of is that at least now he knows Ryan can move his arms too, and that’s a thing less to worry about.

Ryan stays like that, covering his face, breathing hard for a while, until he moves his hands down and looks at Brendon again.

“Sorry.” That’s the first thing he says. Brendon thinks about how many times he had wanted to hear that word coming from Ryan’s mouth. He thinks about how this time is the last thing he wants to hear.

“Do you know where you are?” Brendon asks, deciding to ignore the apology. He doesn’t know what Ryan is apologizing for and he doesn’t want to know either. Not now.

“The hospital,” Ryan says, swallowing or trying to swallow, looking around. “I don’t know why, though. I probably fucked up too bad this time,” he says, and then he looks right at Brendon. “But I know why you’re here. And I’m sorry they called you. If…” Ryan looks around again, he tries, frowning when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. “If you could let me borrow your phone, I can call… someone. You don’t need to be here any longer. Sorry you had to come. I hope I didn’t bother you too much.”

Brendon looks at him and takes a breath, closing his eyes and trying to let it out without trembling. He fails.

“Ryan, what’s the last thing you remember?” He asks, and maybe Ryan can feel the worry in his tone, or maybe that’s the key question here, because Ryan just keeps looking at him, but his eyes stop seeing him.

Ryan’s face gets pale, paler that it already was, and his dry lips press together before they open a little, his tongue trying to wet them before he swallows again.

“I…” Ryan starts, but he stops, frowning, trying. “I remember Keltie not returning my calls when I wanted to see Hobo. I remember her saying she won’t let me see my dog again. I remember coming back to an empty house and…” He looks at Brendon, his eyes moving before he lowers them and shakes his head a little. “That’s pretty much it.”

Brendon feels like he’s going to faint. He’s sure that if he doesn’t just drop down unconscious right there is because Ryan needs him awake. Ryan needs him to get back almost a year of his life.

“Ryan. Listen,” he says, getting closer to the bed and sitting in his usual chair, placing one of his hands over the sheets. “That was… We’re in 2013. Three days ago you had a car crash. And you’ve been in a coma since,” he explains. His heartbeat start to race as he sees Ryan’s eyes getting wider, his face turning into something he hasn’t seen before. He doesn’t want to think about how must it be, waking up in a hospital to someone saying you’ve lost so many days of your life. “You woke up last night for the first time.”

Ryan doesn’t say a thing. He just looks at Brendon for a little longer before lowering his head, probably trying to understand. Brendon wants to hold his hands, wants to touch him somewhere, let him know he’s there, he’ll be there for as long as he needs him. He doesn’t know how to do it, though. He forgot how to be there for Ryan.

“Did you stay here the whole time?” Ryan asks after a long silence, and Brendon just nods, smiling a little. Ryan looks at him again, his eyes running over Brendon, stopping sometimes in some places like his hair, his clothes, his hand on the bed. His ring. When Ryan looks back to Brendon’s eyes, he’s shaking, and there’s something in his eyes Brendon doesn’t recognize. “Does that mean… that we’re back together?” He asks in almost a whisper. Brendon feels a lump in his throat he can’t swallow, and he can’t keep looking at Ryan’s eyes while he answers.

“No,” he says in a lower voice, shaking his head, moving his fingers over the sheets.

“Oh,” he hears Ryan say, and he bites the inside of his mouth trying not to cry right there, trying to forget the disappointment in Ryan’s voice. “Did you get married to…? Sorry. I can’t remember her name,” Ryan says, and Brendon just nods because he doesn’t trust his voice anymore. “Did I go to the wedding?” Ryan asks again and his voice cracks. Brendon regrets the moment he looks back up and sees Ryan’s eyes welling up.

“No,” Brendon answers, and Ryan nods, closing his eyes and letting two fat tears roll down his cheeks.

“Congratulations, then,” he whispers. “I’m sure she’s lovely, and you two will be very happy,” he adds, his voice sounding hoarse but so weak, so sincere. Brendon moves his hand and holds Ryan’s, maybe too tight, but he’s not controlling his body anymore.

“Ryan…”

“Do you want to leave?” Ryan asks, looking at him again, and Brendon can’t stand seeing him like this, he can’t stand not being allowed to wipe those tears off his cheeks, to kiss the flush away. “You can leave. It’s okay,” he says, and he sounds honest and so, so sad, so devastated.

“No,” Brendon shakes his head, holding Ryan’s hand tighter. “No, I want to stay. I want to stay.”

He will stay.

 

*

 

Ryan has’t just lost almost a year of memories, he also can’t remember how to do the most basic things. The first time he tries to drink a glass of water, he spills it all over him. There’s no problem with his hands, he can bring the glass to his lips, but he can’t drink. He forgot how to.

He toss away the tray with his food when the nurse says she will feed him until he learns again how to do it for himself. The doctor tries to calm him down, explaining this is normal, he should consider himself lucky. It could be so much worse. Ryan curses and refuses to eat that day. Doctors don’t insist. He’s being fed though the tubes anyway.

Ryan cries when everybody’s gone. Brendon promises everything will be okay. He will help. With anything he can, he will help.

 

*

 

Ryan will probably need learning to walk again. That’s what the doctors say. They won’t know for sure until his hip and ribs are healed. Ryan says he ‘remembers’ how it was, walking, but he also remembers how it was drinking or eating, and he’s still having problems with that. The doctors say he’s doing good, though, better than most people. Brendon feels proud of him somehow, he always knew Ryan was a genius.

“Don’t let them come,” he says when Brendon mentions Spencer and his family. “Not until I don’t look like a toddler.”

“You don’t look like a toddler,” Brendon says, smiling. He’s been the one feeding Ryan since his outburst with the nurse. There’s a chance now every nurse and doctor thinks of Ryan as an arrogant asshole who doesn’t allow people doing things for him. Brendon knows him, though. Brendon knows the reason Ryan doesn’t want anyone else helping him or seeing him like this is not arrogance, it’s embarrassment.

“I sure feel like one,” he mutters, his cheeks getting red. He hasn’t stop getting red every time Brendon does something for him. He’s too shy, too introverted, even with him. It’s true there was a time when it was different, when Ryan could really be himself around Brendon. Not anymore.

“Hey. Remember that time in Colorado when we were so stoned we wanted french fries but we didn’t have any? So Jon suggested to cook some home made french fries, but we didn’t have any potatoes,” he says, starting to laugh a little, “so you said we could use apples because ’potatoes are _pomme de terre_ anyway’, and everything was a mess.” Brendon looks at Ryan and hopes he does remember, because he would feel like shit if he made Ryan feel bad while trying to make him feel better.

Ryan looks at him for a second, but then he smiles and nods, looking away and closing his eyes for a moment before he laughs.

“And Jon tried peeling the apples with his pocket knife, but he was so bad at it he just kept chopping them in pieces,” Ryan says, looking back at Brendon.

“You got so mad at him,” Brendon laughs, impersonating Ryan’s voice when he adds: “You’re fucking up our chance of nouvelle cuisine, Jon!” And Ryan just burst out laughing, covering his face and tilting his head back.

“So you got ice cream for everyone so we wouldn’t be mad anymore, and _that_ was a mess.”

“You poured it all over you! Trying to eat ice cream with your fingers was not the best idea,” Brendon laughs. “And we tried feeding each other later, remember? It was fun. So this is the same… Just think about it as if you were stoned as fuck.”

“Or you could convince them to get my morphine dose higher so I don’t have to pretend,” Ryan says, but he laughs and nods. “Okay,” he says, and he opens his mouth so Brendon can feed him again. Ryan eats slow and steady, and Brendon’s sure he won’t need help soon. Ryan’s good at learning stuff if he’s interested in them. Brendon doesn’t mind helping in the meantime. “I remember that day, you know?” Ryan says suddenly, and Brendon looks at him. And he’s going to ask ‘you do?’ but then Ryan adds: “All of it.”

Brendon remembers that day too, how they both ended up covered in ice cream and Brendon started licking it off Ryan’s face and sniffing him like a dog while Ryan laughed. Then came the tickles, then came the kisses. Jon and Spencer were out of the room when they fell on the bed, stripping off their clothes and laughing like stupid. The next day the room was a mess, Brendon was sore, but he had the most satisfied smile on his face.

“I do too,” Brendon says, and Ryan looks at him like he’s waiting for Brendon to keep talking, to say something else. He doesn’t, and Ryan’s eyes fall. He just keeps eating until the plate is empty.

 

*

 

Ryan’s getting better, his ribs are healing fast and he’s making a lot of progress at eating by himself and moving his legs. The doctors say he must try to walk as much as he can so his hip can start working properly again. Ryan does, every time he can, until the pain is unbearable and he has to go back in the bed again. It’s been less than two weeks, the wounds from the surgery are still fresh. There’s still a lot of time for Ryan to recover.

Spencer’s coming today, and Linda too. Brendon had to explain to Ryan than Spence and Haley weren’t a thing anymore. He didn’t even know that, and Brendon can see how Ryan feels a little out. Brendon’s sure Ryan will like Linda. She’s a great girl, and Ryan always get along with girls anyway.

What Brendon didn’t know was that Sarah was coming too.

It’s probably one of the most awkward moments of his life, watching Ryan and Sarah in the same room, Ryan in a hospital bed and Sarah visiting. He’s sure this is worse for Ryan, though, even if he tries to smile and thank them for coming. It sounds fake. It sounds unnatural.

They go when the visiting hour comes to an end, and Spencer say he will come again in a few days, tells Ryan to come home when he’s recovered. Ryan watches them go and looks at Brendon.

“You don’t need to stay. I’m fine,” he says in a whisper. Brendon shakes his head. He wants to stay. Now more than ever.

“I’m sorry that happened. I didn’t know,” Brendon says, and he hopes Ryan knows it’s true. Ryan doesn’t say a thing, though. He just looks at him in silence.

The air feels weird after that, foul, unbreathable. Ryan stops looking at him and his eyes become a blank stare. Brendon tries calling his name a couple of times, whispering “Ryan,” touching him lightly, “Ry, come on,” but he just won’t answer.

Brendon sits on his chair and sighs, the weight on his chest tightening his lungs. He doesn’t know if he should be scared right now, but he is. He is because, even if Ryan could just be in shock, or mad, or just not in the mood to talk, there’s also the possibility that he’s having something worse. He’s been in a coma two weeks ago, for God’s sake, and Brendon would never forgive himself if this send him back to it.

“Ryan…” he calls him again, and his voice sounds broken this time. Brendon breathes, lets it out, swallows. “Ryan, I just need to know you’re okay. If you’re mad, if you’re… whatever, that’s fine. But I need to know you can hear me and…”

Ryan moves his head and looks at him, really looks at him. And there’s something in his eyes Brendon hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Remember when my dad was dying?” Ryan asks. “Do you think he felt this way looking at me, like the way I feel looking at you from here?”

“How’s that?” Brendon asks, and his voice is soft so it doesn’t break again.

“Like a failure,” he says, “like knowing it’s too late to fix all the wrong I did.”

And Brendon wants to say, ‘no, you did nothing wrong’, but it would be a lie. Ryan did a lot of things wrong, but that doesn’t make him any worse than the rest of them. They all did things wrong. They all fucked up.

“You’re not a failure, Ryan.”

“But I failed you. Just like my dad did to me,” he says, and Brendon’s sure Ryan wouldn’t be saying these things if it wasn’t the morphine talking. It has to be the morphine talking. It better be.

“You’re not my dad,” Brendon says, and he even laughs a little, breathy and short, but it makes Ryan laugh too.

“Right,” he nods, closing his eyes. “I’m not your anything anymore, right? The name at the bottom of your contact list, marked with an x not to pick up. The voice in the background of your old records. The vacant eyes after someone at the other end of the line tells you to come to the hospital.”

Brendon wants to cry. No, scratch that. He _doesn’t_ want to cry, but right now it feels like a hard task to accomplish. And the worst thing is the feeling of missing this so much, missing the way Ryan uses his words to make him _feel_ , no matter how good or bad, but feel, whole, rich emotions, filling him up until it overflows.

“That’s what you wanted to be,” Brendon says, a couple of warm tears falling down his cheeks, “that’s what you chose. You left. You didn’t have to leave, but you left. You left me.”

“I know,” Ryan nods, and he opens his eyes again. “I know, Brendon. I’m sorry.”

 

*

 

Brendon goes to grab something from a vending machine outside when Ryan falls back asleep. He wakes up and falls back asleep all the time, the morphine does that. It’s the only time Brendon gets out of the room, that and when the nurses take Ryan out for some test, rehabilitation and that kind of things. He knows already how long it will take, so he can either just grab a snack or go home and take a shower, things like that.

It’s already late, and Ryan usually sleeps through the whole night. This time, when Brendon goes back in the room, Ryan’s awake.

“Where do you sleep?” He asks, and Brendon just wait until he sits on his arm chair and smiles, making a face that already answers that question. Ryan frowns, looking around like he just found out there’s no other place Brendon could sleep on. “You’re insane. How long have you been staying the night?”

“Since you’ve been staying the night,” Brendon answers, and Ryan just looks at him with wide eyes. He stares for a while, until he moves roughly to make room in his bed.

“Come here.” He pushes the sheets away, looking at Brendon again. “There’s enough room for the two of us, come on,” he says, and when Brendon’s about to say it’s fine, Ryan speaks again. “It’s either this or you go home. I’ll call the nurse and tell her to take you out.”

“Okay, fine, easy,” Brendon laughs, shaking his head while he moves and goes to the bed, taking off his shoes and sitting on the edge. “Are you…?”

“Brendon, I’m fucking serious.” Ryan says, and Brendon laughs while he gets under the sheets.

“Okay, okay… I’d fuck Sirius too,” he says, and Ryan blinks, turning his head to him.

“Did you just… made a Harry Potter joke?” Ryan asks, but he’s laughing when he finishes the question, and Brendon nods and laughs too, lying down on the bed and sighing when his stomach starts to hurt.

It’s feels good to sleep on a bed again. It’s been so long Brendon didn’t remember how it was to have a mattress under his body. He lets his muscles rest and closes his eyes, but he doesn’t fall asleep. Ryan’s right there. There’s no way he’s falling asleep tonight. The mattress is comfy, though.

Ryan moves to turn his back at Brendon, and Brendon wonders if it hurts more being beside him than lying on his surgery wound. He feels the need to move and spoon him, just like the old times, even before they started having something more than a friendship. Those early days in the bus when he was too young to say anything and Ryan just let him spoon him all night long without saying a word.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Ryan whispers, and Brendon’s heart start to race. ‘Yeah’, he wants to say, ‘of course’, ‘anytime, whatever you want’. Ryan speaks again before Brendon can get the words out of his mouth. “Somedays I wish I had never woke up,” he says, making a cold shiver run up Brendon’s spine. “But then I look at you and think: this. This is the reason I woke up,” he adds, and Brendon wants to smile, but he knows that tone. He knows this is no good. He closes his eyes when Ryan speaks again. “Today was the first time I realized something, though. I realized that this has a deadline. This will come to an end. And we won’t laugh again, and we won’t touch again, and we won’t sleep in the same bed again… So maybe I shouldn’t have woken up after all. I’m going to lose the reason I did anyway.”

Brendon feels his heart jump, his chest tightening. Suddenly he can breathe and the only thing that let him know he’s still alive is the fat tears that burns his skin when they roll down his face. He wants to say something, whatever. But whatever is not good right now because what he needs is the right thing, the right words to talk Ryan into his senses. But he’s not good at words, he never was. That’s Ryan.

He moves. He moves because maybe he’s not good with words but he can try to make Ryan _feel_. He moves and hugs Ryan, holding him as tight as he can and breathing shaky against the nape of his neck. He cries when Ryan covers with his hand one of his, holds it. Brendon feels his heart hammering against his ribcage, and Ryan should feel it too. He wants to say ‘i love you’.

“Ryan, I…” His voice breaks and he sobs, fisting the hospital gown Ryan is wearing.

“Would you sleep with me? Just… Just until I get out of here,” Ryan asks, and Brendon nods almost furiously.

I want to sleep with you forever. He doesn’t say it. Even if it’s true.

 

*

 

They don’t talk about it the morning after. Have they talked about anything anytime? This actually feels normal, feels familiar, knowing something’s going on but not addressing it. They talk like the usually do, they laugh, they eat together now that Ryan can eat by himself, Brendon goes home and changes while Ryan’s at rehabilitation. When Sarah asks if Brendon would stay too much longer, Brendon says he’s not sure, but he doesn’t want to leave until Ryan’s completely recovered, just in case.

It’s getting more and more obvious that the reasons Brendon is staying are beyond pure kindness. Ryan’s friends are visiting now, too. They make jokes about all the pills Ryan has to take, and Brendon smiles when he sees Ryan laugh. Some of them were in the same car when he had the accident, a couple are still recovering. Ryan send them best wishes and ask them to go home and rest. The moment they leave, Brendon wants to ask if Ryan did it so they could be alone. When Ryan asks him to get in the bed with him, Brendon doesn’t need to.

They kiss that night. Brendon laughs when Ryan says he’s glad he didn’t forget how to do that. Brendon says he would have teach him too, every time he needed.

It feels right. It doesn’t feel like they’re doing something bad. This can’t be bad. The way his skin gets goosebumps and his heart jumps, the way his lips tremble just before they touch Ryan’s, the way they touch each other, just their fingertips at first, then the whole hand pressed against the skin. This can’t be bad. It feels too good.

“I came back to life just to do this again,” Ryan says, and his words are worshipping, just like his hands, his lips, his tongue. Brendon wants this forever. Forever. Not just when the sun is down.

 

*

 

Ryan’s going to get out. Not today, but soon. He’s healing faster than they thought, even if he’s not responding that well to the medication and they’re doubling the dosis. Ryan can take the pills at home, he doesn’t need to stay here anymore. They say it's almost a miracle. Ryan doesn’t look blessed while he’s hearing them, though. Brendon holds his hand tight and smiles at him. He’s getting better. This is good news. Hospitals don’t make people happy, they’re just happy when they get to get out of it.

Brendon is not sure if he’d very happy to get out of here as soon as possible anymore.

 

*

 

“I never thought I’d hate so much a piece of gold,” Ryan says, gracing Brendon’s wedding ring with his fingertips. Brendon feels his chest tightening when he realizes he feels the same.

“I love you,” he says, and he can see Ryan’s eyes shine in the dark.

“I know,” Ryan whispers, putting his fingers around the ring, holding it. Brendon swallows as he starts moving his hand away, making his finger slip slowly off the ring. The empty feeling he gets on his hand is nothing compared with how full he feels inside his chest. “I love you too,” Ryan says, letting the ring fall from his hand. “Never stopped.”

Their naked fingers entangle, and Brendon thinks he doesn’t want that ring back again. He holds Ryan’s hand as tight as he can, and they kiss when their whole bodies meet, the heat of their skin warming up the cold room. Is so slow, the way Ryan touches him, but Brendon would embrace the agony if that meant he would have this forever.

“Let me feel you,” Ryan says, and Brendon has never been any happier to obligue. He gets out of his clothes, just to let Ryan feel him, just to feel Ryan too, pulling up the gown as much as he can. “Let me feel you,” Ryan says again, touching him everywhere, kissing him where he can. Brendon moves, gets on top of him, let him feel him, rubs against him.

They shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t okay. They’re in a hospital room when they should be in their own bed. Brendon kisses him, kisses him more, tasting the desperation on his tongue and swallowing it whole. Ask me, ask me, ask me. Whatever you want. Ryan pleads with his eyes and Brendon feels like flying.

They’re hard, hot, ready all over, and Brendon sucks Ryan’s fingers inside his mouth before he asks if he’s sure. “You’re too weak, baby. Are you sure?” Ryan pushes his fingers inside Brendon’s body, past his parted cheeks, and Brendon moans when Ryan says “please, this is the only thing I need. I woke up for this.”

Brendon wishes he could turn the lights on, but the dark will have to do. He can feel Ryan even if he can’t see him, and for now that’s enough. This is love, what they’re doing. What they’re making. It’s love. There’s not place on earth where Brendon have felt so loved as in the embrace of Ryan’s arms.

They pant in each other’s mouths when they finish, and Brendon groans as he feel it inside of him. He kisses Ryan one last time, looking at him with clouded eyes, moving to rest his head on his chest.

“This is where I wanna live,” Brendon says, and he’s not talking about this room. Ryan moves and kisses his head.

“This is where I wanna live too.”

Brendon get his clothes on again, just because he doesn’t trust himself to wake up early enough, and Ryan mocks him saying he’s afraid the nurses will laugh at him when they see him naked. Brendon laughs too, because he’s too happy to do anything else.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Ryan says, swallowing and looking at him. “I wish things didn’t have to end up like this.”

They don’t have to, Brendon thinks. They don’t have to end up like this, they don’t have to end at all. If Ryan asked him right now, he would abandon his life, his house, his wife, his career. If Ryan asked him right now, Brendon would do anything, just to be with him. If Ryan asked him right now, Brendon would leave with him.

“We’re leaving together,” Brendon say, looking at Ryan. “I’m not leaving, Ryan. We’re leaving together. I promise you that.”

“I wish that was true,” Ryan smiles, kissing Brendon’s forehead.

 

*

 

He wakes up with hands pulling at him. Steps, voices, a long steady beep in his ears. He’s on the floor before he knows what’s going on, and a pair of hands pull him up, shake him, a voice asking what happened? What the hell happened?! They push him away and Brendon’s heat races. He thinks: Ryan. And then he can’t think anything else.

The doctors gather around the bed, and Brendon can’t see because they keep pushing him, telling him to get out of the room. But he can’t. He can’t get out of the room without Ryan. They were gonna leave together. He can’t go, he can’t leave him there.

He hears someone say ‘motherfucker didn’t take the pills, he hoarded them’, and Brendon feels nauseous. He’s going to be sick. He’s going to throw up. He feels it right there in his throat and his sight gets blurry.

Ryan.

The door opens and more people get in, carrying a defibrillator and getting between the ones that are already there. They push Brendon again, saying something that Brendon can’t hear because that fucking beep is making him crazy. They push him and push him and Brendon is out. He’s out of the room. He’s outside the room. And Ryan is there. He’s there and Brendon is not with him. Brendon is not.

More people grab him when he cries and pleads to let him in, banging the door with his fist. He can’t be out here, don’t they get it? His place is there with Ryan. Wherever Ryan is, that’s where he should be, how can’t they get it? He cries, please, please, but they won’t listen. They hold him back and shout at him “let the doctors work!”

Brendon falls on his knees. Let the doctors work. Let the doctors work.

The sound stops. Every sound, any sound, it just stop. The hands that held him are gone, and now there are just faces. Faces around him. Long, hollow faces. And a hole like a mouth says “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” It sounds distorted. Brendon is really going to be sick.

“You can get in now. Say goodbye. We’ll leave you alone for a few minutes. Then you have to get out of the room.”

The light is blinding when he gets in. The sun is up. Brendon never hated the day, but now he does. People shouldn’t sleep in the day. But Ryan’s there. Lying on the bed, with his gown torn open, his naked chest out. Red defibrillator marks on it. He’s sleeping. People shouldn’t sleep in the day.

Brendon’s lips tremble as he steps closer, tears rolling down his cheeks that he doesn’t even feel. Ryan’s so pale. He was never this pale. Not even during Circus. They were all so pale during circus. But never this pale. Never this cold.

His skin is still soft, and Brendon can still feel him inside him so there’s no way he’s gone. People don’t go just like this. This doesn’t happen. This doesn’t happen to him.

“Baby, wake up,” Brendon whispers, leaning in to talk to his ear, holding his wrist. He did it. He woke up before. He can do it again. “Ryan,” he sobs, holding his wrist tighter. “Ryan, please. We promise we’d leave together,” he says, moving his hand to wipe Ryan’s face when some tears drop on him.

A knock on the door startles him, making him hold Ryan closer, and a voice says: “honey, ten minutes and you have to get out of the room.”

Hospitals don’t make people happy, they’re just happy when they get to get out of it.

Brendon looks around for the first time, looks at everything that’s in the room. There are pills still in Ryan’s hand, some scattered all over the bed. There are cables hanging from the ceiling, connecting the monitors, the television. The defibrillator is still there, plugged, ready to be used again.

Brendon knows he won’t get out of this room. He won’t get out of this room. He won’t. He won’t.

He won’t get out of this room.

He promised Ryan they’d leave together.

 

 


End file.
